Madame Vastra and The Crystal Incursion
by Metal-Panda-Alex
Summary: Everyone has heard tales of The Great Detective - some admire her, others fear her. After a spate of unexplained deaths that can only be alien in nature, Madame Vastra is called upon once more to investigate. But as the case deepens, can even the Lizard Woman of Paternoster Row halt an invasion that no one can even see?
1. Prologue

**********Doctor Who and all related characters and places are owned by the BBC - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**Well, here we are. My first full-length Vastra & Jenny fic - and probably the first of many. This opener is just a taster, so you'll have to wait for Chapter Two for the actual plot to kick off.**

**~xxx~  
**

It was always the sounds that reminded a person they were in London.

Many larger cities looked similar; smelled similar. But only in London was there such a cacophony of mingled voices, the likes of which were simply beyond compare. In the year of 1889, Lucy Carmichael found herself completely unable to escape the din that emanated from all but the city's outskirts. It had been two years since her family had relocated from Scotland, her father hoping to turn a profit from his skills as a blacksmith. At first, all had seemed well. Greatly so, in fact. But before the year was out, hard times had befallen them and their dream of social mobility was shattered, left to die in the filthy streets alongside those of so many others.

These days, Lucy worked in the market. Her mother baked as many loafs of bread as their small kitchen would allow, and Lucy sold them for the smallest of profits. By now, any illusions of the city's grandeur had been totally wiped away. It was cold, dark, and thoroughly unpleasant. Great chimneys rose in the distance, dark columns of smoke and soot erupting into the sky, endlessly blanketing the streets below. The Thames ran through London like an open wound, reeking of filth, disease and death. Before London, Lucy had never seen a dead body – now she didn't even give them a second look. Corpses littered the dark alleys, and more often than not, stayed there for several weeks before the stench became too unbearable for even the roughest men, and they were finally carted away to an undignified grave.

And that was before one factored in the abundance of street gangs, whorehouses, and parentless delinquents that would steal from you easier than breathing. Lucy knew the entire city wasn't like this; knew that for some, life was idyllic. But what did it matter to her? Why did a poor girl from Glasgow care that others better off than her were enjoying the city's finest, when all that surrounded her was corruption, obscenity and death?

It was a cold evening in January. Thick snow blanketed the rooftops, creating something of a picturesque sight – at least if one looked upwards. For the streets, however, were filled with a disgusting mix of mud, waste, and what had once been a similar powdery coating to that on the roofing. Now, it was just a brown, half-frozen mush, just as likely to entrap your feet as it was to slip you up. Lucy was on her way home, an empty basket over her arm. It wasn't even that late in the day, but the early Winter sunset meant that already, the only source of light was from gaslamps along her path. She smiled as a gentleman doffed his hat as he passed; poor she may be, but she had long since learnt how to present herself as above her station. Heading away from the market square, Lucy headed down a narrow alleyway. Suddenly surrounded by tall, crooked buildings, everything seemed a great deal darker. But she knew the route home; knew which areas to avoid and bypass.

Lucy paused when she heard a shout. Echoing around her, she had no idea if it had come from ahead or behind. She remained still for a moment, but when she was met with only the wind whistling down the alley, she brushed it off as a boisterous urchin.

She continued on her way, tightening the shawl around her shoulders; Christmas may have been and gone, but the weather was only getting colder. Ahead of her, the alley led to a large courtyard belonging to a local pub. Strictly speaking, it wasn't a public pathway, but Lucy was known to the barman, and he knew she was only passing through. She imagined the area would be pure white – no one would have been eating outside in this weather. Expecting to see nothing but undisturbed snow, Lucy was in for something of a shock.

Sailing towards her, twirling through the air and glinting in the dim light, was a bronze helmet.

Not exactly what she had expected to see, Lucy recoiled from the incoming object. It landed at her feet with a metallic thud, coming to rest and staring up at her.

Mouth hanging open, Lucy slowly looked back up in the direction the helmet had come from, and if she had been shocked before, nothing could have prepared her for what she now saw.

Far from deserted, the courtyard was full of activity. Six or seven men, dressed head to toe in bronze armour, were standing in a loose circle, facing inwards. They were all of equal height and build; even their stances were identical. But the circle wasn't complete; there was a gap, and to Lucy's horror she saw that one of the men was collapsed in a heap, with nothing above his shoulders but more snow.

She glanced down at the helmet once more, and only then did Lucy realise – it was no helmet: it was a head.

A bronze, rivet-covered head.

Neither the head, nor the body from which it came, had shed any blood. Pooling beneath the helmet was a black substance, slowly oozing from multiple severed tubes beneath the jaw. Oil. And from the body itself, short bursts of steam were emanating from the neck, as well as a great deal more oil. These men could not be men, Lucy thought. They were mechanical; machines. Oil and steam for blood; burnished bronze for skin. Realisation setting in, Lucy would likely have fainted on the spot, had it not been for what she saw next.

The metal men weren't just standing in a circle - they were surrounding something. That something turned out to be two women, standing back to back. The nearest was shorter, wearing a simple black dress. Her hair was up in a tight bun, with a few strands having broken free and falling back down over her face. The other woman…

Well, for a start, the other woman had no hair. And a far as Lucy could tell, nor did she have any skin. Where flesh should have been, instead there was nothing but shiny green scales. For a moment, Lucy thought she might have been mistaken, but looking the figure up and down again she was sure it, whatever it was, was female. Atop her green head was a tall crest – it would have given her an almost regal appearance, if it weren't for the horrific nature of her scales. But then Lucy noticed the green woman's attire – she was well-dressed. Unable to comprehend everything her eyes were telling her, Lucy completely failed to notice that the other, human-looking woman, was staring right at her.

"Ma'am," she said, cocking her head towards the green woman, who too turned to look at Lucy, standing there, motionless.

And the moment she did, one of the metal men moved forwards. It raised an arm, hand outstretched. The green woman turned back towards it, and moments before the hand made contact, it simply wasn't there anymore. The entire forearm hit the snow, the stump from which it came spewing forth a jet of steam as the man recoiled. He let out no exclamation; no sound that would indicate he had just lost an arm.

Only then did Lucy notice something that had completely passed her by. So distracted by the women themselves, she had completely failed to notice what they were carrying.

Swords.

In unison, the two women raised them, and then, faster than anyone Lucy had ever seen before, they darted forwards. The green woman struck first, decapitating the already armless man. Like the one at Lucy's feet, his head flew into the air, propelled upwards by a great jet of steam and oil from the man's neck. His body fell backwards, crashing into the ground with a loud bang. The shorter woman met her target with equal fervour, swinging her blade clean through it's stomach. At first, nothing happened. But as it attempted to step towards her, it's entire body buckled, torso falling clean off, landing atop it's collapsed legs. Again, there was a flurry of steam from their wounds, continuing long after they had fallen.

As the green woman dispatched another of their attackers, a third approached from the side. This time, it managed to reach her, grabbing her upper arm with it's metallic hand. She struggled, but without taking her hands off her sword, she was helpless. It stood still for a moment, and then to Lucy's horror, it spoke.

"You are not like us," it said in a deep voice, grating as though the very metal itself was speaking. "Reptilian physiology incompatible. You will be taken for study."

But before either could act, the other woman was hurtling towards them. "Get your filthy 'ands off 'er!" she shouted, jumping right at the metal man, spinning in the air and cleaving it's head in two. Instantly, it released the green woman, collapsing back into a twitching mess.

"You alright?" the shorter woman asked, receiving a nod in reply. Lucy wasn't sure if the green woman could even talk. But they had little time to talk, as the remaining metal men were advancing. Their movements were slow and heavy, each footstep echoing around the courtyard. Lucy briefly wondered just how the women's swords were capable of cutting through solid bronze, but was distracted as the fight resumed.

The green woman stepped gracefully around one of the men, smashing the hilt of her sword into his head. As he recoiled, she twirled the sword in her hand, before driving it straight through his chest. As she withdrew it, steam shot forth and she kicked the man away from her, pausing only for a moment to watch him fall. Across from her, the normal-looking woman was facing down two of their attackers. One of them moved first, reaching for her with a cold hand. But she was far too fast, parrying his attack and shoving the arm aside. The other man made a similar move, but was met with the woman's blade running clean through it's shoulder. With her weapon still embedded within the man, she gave a great heave, and send him crashing into his comrade. The two of them toppled over, and before they could right themselves, both were swiftly decapitated.

Another of the metal men approached from behind, grabbing the young woman by the neck before she could retaliate.

"You are compatible," it said. The woman's sword fell from her hand as she brought them both up in an attempt to remove the tightening grip. "You will become like us."

"Jenny!" the green woman shouted, kicking another of the men to the ground before moving towards her struggling companion. Lucy blinked, surprised that even from that one word, it was clear that the scaly creature spoke with a cultured, refined voice.

The captive woman – Jenny – grit her teeth as she struggled for breath. The green woman barrelled straight into the metal man, forcing him to release Jenny as he attempted in vain to defend himself. Moments later, he was pinned to the ground by the woman's sword. But rather than finish him off, she left him there, rushing to Jenny's side. The young woman had landed on her feet, rubbing at her neck and taking several deep breaths.

"Let me see," the green woman said, reaching up and pulling the other woman's hands away.

"I'm fine," Jenny replied, but allowed herself to be examined all the same. The green woman peered closely at the skin, tilting her scaly head to the side.

"And you are lucky to be so," she said. "It would appear their new bodies are still incapable of delivering electrical attacks."

"You what?" Jenny asked, sounding surprised. "You didn't tell me they could do that!"

"Well, I didn't want to worry you," the green woman said, flashing a brief smile. Lucy was almost surprised to see that her teeth appeared human – she had expected them to be sharp and pointy. The green woman pulled away and straightened up. "Now then…"

She turned back to the metal man still impaled upon her sword. Only now did Lucy notice that he was the only one left. Around the two women, the scattered remains of the mechanical men lay motionless. Some felled by single wounds, others missing entire limbs. Some were still spurting small jets of steam, but only that last one was moving of his own accord.

"How many more?" the green woman asked calmly, looking down at him. His bronze head turned upwards to look at her.

"We will rebuild," he said in that same emotionless voice. "We will rise again and convert this planet."

"Perhaps you didn't hear me," the green woman said, crouching beside him. Only now did Lucy see that the sword wound appeared to have had more effect than simply pinning him to the ground – his hands were twitching uselessly at his sides. "Last we met, we destroyed your conversion factory. How many more Cybermen survived?"

"You are of unknown evolutionary design," the man went on, his grating voice becoming somewhat quieter. "Explain your presence on the human world."

"I think you'll find it's as much my world as it is theirs," she replied, before standing again and placing a hand atop the hilt of her sword. "And if you have little else to tell us, I think it's time I rid it of you."

With that, she placed both hands around her sword, and twisted. The metal man convulsed for a moment, before letting out a final guttural groan, and falling silent. The sword was withdrawn, swiftly slid back into a scabbard at the woman's waist. Jenny reached for her own, doing the same. The two women shared another smile, before both turned to face Lucy.

Subjected to such an onslaught of impossible sights, Lucy had almost forgotten that she was actually there. This had to be some sort of dream, didn't it? Perhaps she had slipped on the ice; or maybe never even made it out of bed that morning. Maybe this was all merely a figment of her imagination, brought on by lack of sleep and the cold weather. But as the two women approached, and Lucy felt her senses fully returning, she started to think more and more that this was indeed reality.

But just as the green woman opened her mouth to speak, there were hurried footsteps echoing down the alleyway behind Lucy. She turned in fright, waiting to see what fresh horror would greet her. But rather than another creature that surely belonged in children's nightmares alongside the scaly woman and the metal men, Lucy instead found herself face to face with a police officer.

"Ah," the green woman said, a smile in her voice. "Benton."

"Madame Vastra," the officer greeted, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. Lucy saw from his epaulette that he was only a constable. "Inspector Abberline is on his way. I'm sorry, I…" He took another deep breath. "They left before we knew you were involved. They'll be here soon."

"I see," replied the green woman – Madame Vastra, had he called her? "Your timing, as always, is fortuitous."

"Much obliged," Constable Benton said with a nod. Vastra narrowed her eyes.

"Though if Abberline is yet to arrive, just how did you know exactly where we would be?"

"Because I led him," a new voice answered. Constable Benton stepped to one side, and Lucy's mind felt an almost smug satisfaction that her prediction of more abominable creatures had been correct. Approaching down the alleyway was a squat, bald-headed creature – Lucy hesitated to call him a man. Though, like Vastra, he had two arms, two legs, and a head, he looked like no person she had ever seen before. His large, domed head was wide and brown, and his build was that of a man who had been squashed downwards and stretched sidewards. He spoke with a surprisingly polite tone, though it seemed just as alien to him as it did to Lucy.

"You took your time," Jenny said, quirking an eyebrow.

"I would have been here sooner, but-" He stopped, turning and looking to face Lucy. "Who's he?" Vastra raised what would have been an eyebrow, had she any hair to speak of. "…she?"

"I was about to ask that very same question," Vastra said, stepping a little closer. Lucy wanted to back away, but with the potato-headed man behind her, she had nowhere to go. Apparently sensing her discomfort, Vastra's expression became somewhat kinder. "You are not in any danger."

"What were those things?" Lucy blurted out. It was one of the many questions flying around her head, and it seemed rather more polite than 'what are you?'

"Cybermen," Vastra replied, as though such a thing was common knowledge. "Mechanical beings from a planet once part of our solar system, before the moon's gravity shifted it's orbit and sent it hurtling off into space."

"That don't mean a thing to me," Lucy replied. "What are they? How do they move?"

Vastra sighed. "It depends entirely on which method is used. These particular Cybermen appropriate the brains of humans or near-humans and, after stripping away all emotions, essentially use it as a computer to-"

"Per'aps you should give 'er the short version," Jenny offered, noticing the blank stare upon Lucy's face. Vastra sighed again and shook her head.

"Metal men from outer space," she said flatly, before turning to Jenny and giving the fakest of smiles. "Will that do? Or should I simplify their appropriation of Victorian technology as well?"

"If I might interrupt," Constable Benton cut in, looking somewhat confused himself. "The Inspector will be here any minute."

"Of course," Vastra replied, turning back to Lucy. "Suffice it to say, they are no longer a threat to you or your kind." She turned on her heel and moved away, back into the midst of the fallen Cybermen. Jenny followed, muttering under her breath.

"You don't have to be so rude all the time," she hissed, earning a glare from her companion.

"It is hardly my fault that you are the only human on this planet that isn't an incompetent," the green woman snapped, not even bothering to keep her voice down.

"You'll have to forgive Madame Vastra," Constable Benton said with a smile. "She sometimes forgets that not everyone knows as much about these things as she does."

"And you do?" Lucy asked incredulously. "Constable, what_ is_ she?"

"The Great Detective," he replied simply. "Far as I'm concerned, that's all that matters."

"But…but she's…" Lucy trailed off, shaking her head. Something told her she was never going to get her questions answered.

"Strax?" Vastra called. "We need you."

"Coming, ma'am," the potato-headed man replied, squeezing past Lucy and joining the other two. Lucy watched in utter bewilderment as he pulled something from under his cloak; he held it like a rifle, but it resembled no weapon she had ever seen. Moments later, she recoiled in shock as a wide beam of red light emanated from the end of it, directed towards one of the fallen Cybermen. It's body glowed for a moment, before bursting into tiny embers, leaving only a melted patch of snow. Absolutely nothing remained. Strax repeated his actions again and again, wiping each and every Cyberman from existence. His task completed, the courtyard had very little snow left, but also no sign that anything unusual had ever taken place there.

Vastra returned to the edge of the alleyway, reach down and retrieving the Cyberman head still sat at Lucy's feet. She held it with both hands, staring at the blank, bronze face for a moment.

"You've seen them before?" Lucy found herself asking, looking from the head to Vastra.

"A fair few times," the green woman replied quietly. "Among many other things you likely wouldn't believe." She finally turned to Lucy, and smiled. "I know my appearance likely alarms you. Fear of the unknown is nothing to be ashamed of."

With that, she stuck a gloved hand into the head, and pulled. Something hit the ground with a squelch, and Lucy found herself suddenly wishing she hadn't looked down. Cogs, cables, and – as Vastra had indeed inferred – a human brain. Though, Lucy admitted to herself, human remains were not as shocking as everything else she had seen that evening. Vastra pulled a few more bits and pieces from within the head, leaving it as nothing but an empty helmet, before motioning for Strax to dispose of what she had retrieved.

"You're keeping that thing?" Lucy asked, nodding at the head. Vastra was now holding it by one of the 'handle-bar' protrusions.

"Evidence," Jenny said.

"A trophy," Strax offered, smirking slightly.

Vastra looked down at the head once more. "Perhaps both," she said, giving those empty eyes one last look. "Now then, only one more loose end…"

"Please don't kill me," Lucy said quickly, realisation setting in. Of course she was next – they had removed all evidence of what had happened, but she had seen it all, hadn't she?

"Kill you?" Vastra asked, smiling incredulously. "Now why would we do that?" She turned to Constable Benton. "You will watch over her?"

"Of course," he replied. "Once I've sent the Inspector away."

"Good," Vastra said, continuing to smile. "In that case, I only require one thing of you."

"What's that?" Lucy asked, slightly nervous as the scaly woman approached her.

"Simple," Vastra replied, reaching into her cloak. "Hold this worm."

**~xxx~**

Head throbbing, Lucy opened her eyes. She was flat on her back, freezing cold, and definitely not in her bed. She had no idea of how she had ended up here, or for that matter, where 'here' was. She frowned, struggling to sit up. Everything was a blur; had she been attacked? Robbed? She winced, limbs stiff as she attempted to move. Looking around, she found it a struggle to recognise anything around her. But as her faculties returned, everything fell back into place.

It was always the sounds that reminded a person they were in London.


	2. A New Case

**********Doctor Who and all related characters and places are owned by the BBC - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**Well done to everyone who noticed Benton's name! Yes, he is indeed a relation of Sergeant Benton of UNIT. Probably his grandfather. I actually chose the name at random, and was going to change it. But after I remembered the connection, I knew it had to stay.  
**

**Big thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter. Hope this one is just as interesting :)  
**

**~xxx~**

Sergeant Groves hated night-time dock duty. Hated it with every fibre of his being, which - given his portly build - was a considerable amount. It was dull, the river stank, and nothing much ever happened. And to top it all off, it was snowing. Every now and again, Groves would catch the faintest hint of baking bread from across the Thames, and long to be back at home with a fresh cup of tea – or perhaps a large brandy, given the time of year. Instead, he was stuck here, traipsing up and down the river's edge with only a lantern to light his way. Retirement was looking more and more promising, even if he had only made the rank of Sergeant.

He was so caught up in thoughts of being back in his warm bed that it took him a while to register that a strange noise was coming from some distance ahead of him. A faint, almost knocking sound, coming from the river's edge. Grumbling to himself, Groves held his lantern aloft, and peered over the edge of the low stone wall, trying his best to catch a glimpse of what was below. With the moon obscured by clouds, and his lantern worse than useless, it was a struggle to make out anything other than the occasional glimmer. Only by ear could one even be sure there was a river there at all. But as he drew ever closer, Groves began to discern something against the dark water.

Caught up in a wooden grate from the sewer system, was a large mass of rags – possibly even a sack, of sorts. Something within them, jammed through the wooden planks, was knocking against the grate as the river's current attempted to extricate it. But only when Groves was completely level with the object, directly above it, did he see it.

A hand, pale and lifeless, flailing around uselessly as the water washed around it. This was no bundle of rags – it was a body.

Groves blew on his whistle for as long as twenty years of heavy smoking would allow. A better man would have said a small prayer for the deceased below – he was just praying it wouldn't have to be him to drag the poor sod from the water. And as it transpired, Groves was indeed spared that dubious privilege. He had stood there, feeling rather relieved, as two younger and far more able-bodied officers had hauled the waterlogged corpse onto dry land.

Once they had returned to Scotland Yard, Groves accompanied the body to the morgue, quietly wondering if he would be home yet if he had simply ignored the dead man and continued on his way. Grumbling again, he filled out the paperwork that was shoved in his direction. When he had first joined the force, there had been nowhere near as much documentation. The Yard called it 'modernisation' – Groves called it a bloody waste of time. But, with that done and the body turned over the appropriate people, he was free to leave.

But just as he was heading out the door, he caught a snatch of a conversation behind him.

"But that's the third one this week," Constable Benton was saying in a hushed whisper. "No obvious injuries, and found on the same stretch of river as the others."

"His lungs are of full of water, and he ain't been shot, stabbed, or clubbed," Inspector Croft replied flatly. "He drowned. End of story."

Harold Croft was a rather thick-set man. The sort of police officer one expected to be corrupt; he had a gruff nature, and didn't respond well to other officers treading on his toes – especially those junior to himself. A man in his early forties, he had seen a fair thing or two.

"Don't you think we should at least conduct an autopsy?" Benton replied, but Croft just let out a harsh laugh.

"What is it with you lot and cutting stiffs open?" he asked. "We have a river. We get floaters. It ain't exactly complicated."

"At the very least, don't you think we should tell…" Benton trailed off, probably moving closer to the other man. "_…her?_"

"Now you listen 'ere," Croft said, suddenly firm. "I know you think you're all high n' mighty because you've met 'er, but don't for one second think that gives you any special jurisdiction. Do I make myself clear, Constable?"

"…perfectly, sir," Benton replied after a moment. "Sorry, sir."

"Now I don't want to 'ear another word about it, understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Now then- …oi, Grovey! You stuck in the door again?!"

**~xxx~**

Of all the inventions known to mankind, none was more malicious, cruel, or downright evil, as the bedroom curtain. In fact, whoever invented them should be diced, lightly grilled, and served with a fine wine.

Or at least, that was the opinion of one particular woman that morning, who at present was burying her scaly face within her pillow, letting out something of a growl as more and more light entered the room. Protesting even louder, she lifted a pillow from the other side of the bed and threw it over her head, cocooning herself in a desperate attempt to remain in darkness.

"What gives you the right?" she mumbled, voice muffled further by her 'defences.' The person she was addressing, wearing a large smirk and now standing by the bed, placed her hands on her hips.

"You said you wanted to be awake by eight o'clock," the smiling woman replied, shaking her head in amusement. "Shouldn't 'ave stayed up so late."

"If I remember correctly," the protesting woman began, gesturing towards her assailant with a long finger, despite her head remaining buried. "You were not complaining."

"Because I know I can get up as early as I want," the other woman said with a shrug.

"Jenny, you're fired."

"Mmhmm," Jenny murmured, stooping to pick up another pillow that had been knocked from the bed the moment she opened the first set of curtains. "That's the second time in just as many weeks."

"Well perhaps I mean in this time," the bed-ridden woman shot back, finally emerging from beneath her pillow fortress and glaring.

"Oh, is that so?" Jenny replied, continuing to smile. "Well then, I do 'ope you enjoy cleaning the bathroom. And dusting your books. And watering everything in that green'ouse of yours." She paused for a moment, watching with glee as the glare worsened. "Oh, and sorting out the bills. And the shopping. And of course preparing all your own meals."

"Strax will cook for me."

There was silence for a moment, and then, at precisely the same time, both women burst out laughing. Jenny moved forwards and sat upon the edge of the bed, smoothing out her uniform before leaning towards the other woman and placing a quick kiss against green lips. Brief as it was, the scaly woman found her eyes fluttering shut. She smiled at the other woman, reaching for her hand and taking it with her own.

"Perhaps you aren't fired then," she said quietly, rubbing her thumb against soft skin.

"Dear me," Jenny said, shaking her head. "The great Madame Vastra – anything for a pretty face."

"No," Vastra said softly. "Only the prettiest."

Jenny smiled, cheeks reddening slightly. "I…uh…" she began awkwardly, glancing away. "I really did enjoy last night…"

"And it hasn't become strange yet?" Vastra asked, fighting to not sound overly wary. Jenny shook her head.

"Not at all," she replied. "I thought it might do after a bit, but…" She smiled again. "It was perfect. Every second of it."

"I am glad," Vastra said, hoping she didn't sound too relieved. She refused to show worry, even in front of her maid. "I know it must be something of an unusual experience for you."

"S'not that different," Jenny replied with a shrug. "After all…" She leant closer, breath tickling Vastra's scales. "If I remember correctly, you were not complaining – and it's just as unusual for you."

Unable to help herself, Vastra leant forwards and pulled the brunette into another kiss. She pulled away, but only just, resting her head against the other woman's. "Thank you," she said, voice soft again.

"My pleasure, ma'am," Jenny replied, before smirking again. "Just one thing…...we've been sharing this bed for six months now, and you only just decided to ask me if I had any problems with it?"

"Well I…" Vastra trailed off, once more fighting embarrassment. "…thought that maybe…if you did, I should at least enjoy it before you protested…"

"Unbelievable," the brunette muttered, before leaning in for one final kiss. "Now get dressed." She got back to her feet, and headed for the door. "I'll get breakfast started," she said, quickly pausing to glance over her shoulder. "Unless you want Strax to do it?"

"You are a terrible person, Miss Flint," Vastra said, narrowing her eyes. Jenny chuckled.

"And yet you still love me," she said, before disappearing through the door. Vastra smiled, turning away and staring into space for a moment.

"Mmmm…" she murmured, briefly closing her eyes. Jenny's words couldn't be more true – the depth of her feelings for the young woman had startled her at first; even worried her. Now, with their relationship at it's current stage, she was no longer afraid to admit how she felt – to both Jenny and herself.

It had been an incredibly bizarre route to romance. But, Vastra reasoned, that was only to be expected – they were, after all, two entirely different species. Jenny had worked for her as little more than a housemaid for nearly a year – cleaning, preparing meals, and most importantly, helping Vastra understand exactly what taxes were for. At the time, Vastra had only felt brief moments of attraction, but simply brushed them off. Jenny was a human; an ape. As a proud Silurian warrior, Vastra was above every other lifeform living on this planet. But, as time passed, and Vastra grew accustomed to both humans and her life among them, her proclamations of genetic superiority became less and less frequent.

Sensing Jenny wasn't as clueless as most people Vastra had met since her awakening, the Silurian began setting little tests for her. Stating one fact about herself, then contradicting it some time later, just to see if Jenny noticed. And of course, the bright young woman did. Eventually, Jenny began asking to accompany her when she left the house at night. The maid didn't even know what Vastra did; no clue as to the horrors that lurked in the dark. But, Vastra decided, perhaps that was a sign of bravery that shouldn't be mistaken for foolishness. As it transpired, Jenny was a fast learner, and only three months later, she was wielding a sword alongside Vastra's.

And it was at that point that the Silurian knew – she was falling fast, and falling hard. Everything about Jenny grew more and more enticing with each and every passing day. And eventually, she gave in. When Jenny was dressed appropriately, cleaning the house and making tea, she was the perfect example of an obedient servant. But out at night, battling rogue Cybershades, murderous thugs, and the occasional dream-stealing fire-breathing snail from another galaxy, Jenny was a completely different person. Her eyes would narrow, filled with determination and adrenaline. Her movements weren't as fluid as Vastra's, but her attacks were surprisingly powerful for one so small. Little did people know that beneath that apron and pretty face, Jenny was likely better built than most men.

Vastra, having always preferred females of her own species, didn't stand a chance. And, knowing that Jenny was unlikely to respond to her advances while in the mindset of a serving girl, laid a trap for her. They had been sparring, several weeks after Jenny had been injured during an investigation. She was angry; dead set on proving she wasn't as weak as Vastra claimed all humans were. To her credit, Vastra's comments about 'dirty apes' had almost entirely stopped by this point. But that night, she needed Jenny angry – needed her set loose.

To say it had worked perfectly would be something an understatement. After taunting her endlessly, Vastra found herself flat on her back, Jenny pinning her to the ground. And, mere moments later, they were kissing.

That was nearly a year ago now, though it felt considerably longer. And, to put it mildly, Vastra had never been happier. Part of her wondered whether it was traitorous to her own kind to find such happiness with a human, but all it took as a smile or a laugh from Jenny to remind Vastra that there was no place she would rather be.

**~xxx~**

As Vastra set about dressing herself, Jenny was busy preparing breakfast. But, as she often did when working about the house, she found herself lost in thought.

It was hard to believe that three months had already passed since Demon's Run.

Despite everything she had done both before and since then, Jenny Flint still thought back to it almost more than any other day she could remember. She had travelled into the far future in a magic box, leaving behind her home planet as though she were simply stepping out the front door. From what little she knew of the future, Jenny was aware that it would be more than a century since her birth that humanity mastered such a feat themselves. It was an odd feeling, going about her daily routine after that; knowing she had done something that so many would deem impossible.

Of course, 'impossible' was a word used far too liberally by most, as Jenny had discovered over the past few years. In fact, most aspects of her adult life would be considered beyond belief to all but very few. And yet despite the wonders and dangers she encountered on a sometimes daily basis, young Jenny Flint still had a level head on her shoulders; facing every situation with a cool head and composed attitude.

Well, unless snakes were involved. But having a sixty-foot long alien python chasing you down the sewers of London was enough to cause at least mild concern in most people.

To this day, it amazed Jenny that everything she had done remained secret. She went to the market on Mondays, smiled at anyone who said hello or doffed their hat, and was known to most of the local merchants and workers. But all they saw was a normal person, and to some extent, Jenny assumed this was because she was indeed a relatively normal young woman. She had a stable job, a comfortable living, a close group of friends, and even a lover to share her bed.

Who also happened to be green, scaly, and just about the most wonderful creature Jenny had ever set eyes upon.

When first they met, Madame Vastra had been a complete mystery to Jenny. Not long after that, she was her employer, and eventually, her friend. But it was the last step in their relationship that Jenny was eternally thankful for. After the misery she had suffered for most of her life, she was all but certain her existence would be one of solitude and continued hardship. But Vastra had changed everything; given her everything she had ever wanted and more. Most people thought of Jenny as a shy, wilting flower of a maid – Vastra had trained her to be strong. Most saw her life as dull and menial – Vastra made sure no moment was ever uninteresting. Most regarded her as 'plain but pretty' – Vastra made her feel beautiful.

But it was all in secret; all hidden in plain sight. When the people about town saw a young maid and her frail, age-ravaged mistress crossing the street, they didn't see Vastra and Jenny following the trail of the businessman responsible for several recent murders. When they saw Jenny leading her employer into a warehouse near the docks, they had no idea that the strange sounds coming from within were several gang members dropping their weapons in fright as Vastra lowered her hood.

And those were just the 'Human Matters', as Jenny's mistress liked to call them.

With Vastra, she had seen so many visitors from other worlds; so many beings that belonged in fairy-tales – or children's nightmares. And more often than not, they ended up falling to the duo's blades. Jenny knew that what they were doing wouldn't help those who were starving; those begging on the streets of London every night. But she had learnt to look at the bigger picture – to see beyond that which her eyes told her, and to consider the larger consequences. Knowing that their actions had – on some occasions, at least – potentially saved the entire planet from disaster, Jenny was always able to rest easy at night, knowing she had already made more of a difference than many could hope to in a lifetime.

"Ah, there you are," Jenny said, breaking from her thoughts and smiling as she saw Vastra entering the kitchen. The scaled woman was, Jenny noticed, not actually dressed at all. Instead she had simply thrown a dressing gown over her bare body, giving Jenny a rather large eyeful of green.

"Is that truly how one addresses their employer these days?" Vastra asked, stepping closer and peering over Jenny's shoulder. "I must say, I am truly dismayed at your falling standard of manners. Whatever is happening to this glorious empire of yours?"

"Most servants don't spend their nights with their 'eads between their employer's legs," Jenny pointed out, not even batting an eyelid at her own lewd comment. Vastra considered for a moment.

"Well…that's probably not entirely true," she began, before smiling. "But I see your point." She leant forward and pecked Jenny's cheek, before heading back down the hallway and up the stairs.

"Papers are on your chair!" Jenny called. "And for goodness' sake, why aren't you dressed?!"

"Why aren't you undressed?" Vastra called back. Jenny just sighed and continued with her work.

When first they met, Vastra had survived solely on raw meat, scavenged from butchers, pubs, and – when the fancy took her – living men. Even after moving into Paternoster Row and employing Jenny, her meal of choice changed very little. But, very slowly, she began to grow curious. She eyed Jenny's food with interest, watching as steam wafted off of her food. And finally, with a surprisingly timid tone, she had asked if Jenny would cook for her. She still preferred her meat on the rare side of things, but it at least meant Jenny no longer had to cut up bits of animals – or sometimes people. With breakfast finally ready, Jenny headed upstairs and into Vastra's study, but paused when she noticed the woman herself was absent. Still holding the tray, she cocked her head to the side, surveying the room.

While she was usually very neat - refined, even - Vastra's study was far from it. The room was littered with countless objects, scattered haphazardly about the place. Books were piled high in crooked columns, papers and documents were just as abundant on the floor as they were on her desks, and all about the room, various artefacts from their past adventures sat with no real order or design. In short, the room was a complete mess. But, as Vastra repeatedly claimed, everything was in it's proper place. In fact, her own bedroom had been in a similar state before she and Jenny became intimate – but one look at it and Jenny had flat-out refused to sleep among such things. Of course, the contents were simply moved to the study, owing to it's increasingly cluttered state.

And, after looking the room over, Jenny found what she was looking for. Hidden behind a small wall of books, Vastra's scaly feet could be observed, promptly shuffling forwards and out of sight.

"And what exactly do you think you're doing?" Jenny asked, placing the breakfast tray beside Vastra's chair.

"It's back," the Silurian replied simply, shuffling forwards again.

"What, exactly, is back?" Jenny asked, moving to Vastra's side and peering over the books.

"That infernal mouse," Vastra replied. "I hear it's comings and goings through the walls, and I just observed it scuttling across the floor and behind...uh…" She quickly looked up at the books. "…the complete works of William Shakespeare."

"A mouse?" Jenny repeated, an eyebrow raised.

"Vile little creature," Vastra muttered. Jenny shook her head.

"Well when Strax gets 'ere you can wage war against it all you want," she said, trying hard not to laugh. "But right now your breakfast is gettin' cold."

Vastra poked her head out from behind the books, looking from Jenny to the tray near the window. "Ah," she said, struggling to her feet and dusting herself off. "Thank you, my dear." She moved past Jenny, stroking a scaly finger across her back as she went. She promptly seated herself, eyeing her sausages and bacon greedily. But then, she frowned, turning back to her maid. "Where are my newspapers?"

"You're sitting on them, ma'am," Jenny said flatly, crossing her arms. Vastra shifted, extricating the stack of papers.

"Ah yes," she said, placing them beside the tray. "Thank you."

As Vastra tucked into her breakfast, Jenny found it hard not to roll her eyes. It had been nearly a month since the incident with the Cybermen, and shortly after that, their cases had simply dried up. While there were still plenty of crimes to be solved, only those of the most extraordinary nature required Vastra's attention. By now, Jenny was even considering marching down to Scotland Yard and demanding Inspector Abberline give Vastra whatever investigation was available. The normally calm and poised Silurian had a tendency to become…odd, when situations such as this arose. She would take to sneaking out of bed at night, randomly walking the house and talking to herself. Once, Jenny had found Vastra sat upon the roof – thankfully hooded – attempting to feed the birds.

Despite the bizarre nature of her employer's behaviour, Jenny couldn't help but feel slightly pleased that she was able to see it. Before their romance blossomed, Vastra would often hide herself away from Jenny at times like this, locked up in her study. But now, seeing as they spent every night in each other's arms, the maid was privy to her lover's curious eccentricities.

"Oh, a parcel arrived for you this morning," Jenny remembered, gesturing to a package beside Vastra's chair; brown paper wrapped with string. "You didn't tell me you had bought anything."

"Aha, it is a surprise," Vastra replied, blue eyes twinkling as she reached down for the parcel. "As my life continues to resemble a becalmed sea with no breeze to propel me nor a horizon to head for-" Jenny raised an eyebrow, and Vastra paused. "…save for the presence of my beautiful sea siren, of course." The Silurian got to her feet, turning her back to Jenny as she unwrapped the package. "I have decided to take up a hobby."

Not a woman of faith, Jenny was still considering praying to some higher power that she was imagining this.

"And, as Dr Doyle has decided to embellish my fictional counterpart with a love of such practices, I have chosen…" She turned, and Jenny felt her blood run cold. "The violin."

Jenny was silent for a moment, eyes flitting between the instrument in Vastra's hand, to her wide grin. The maid closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Can you play?" she asked finally, looking back up at the other woman.

The Silurian shrugged. "I haven't the faintest idea," she said, looking the instrument up and down. "But it cannot be too difficult if your kind mastered it several hundred years ago, can it?"

"I hope not," Jenny said, collecting the tray from Vastra's side and stepping back towards the door, hoping for a speedy exit. "Or else the next issue of The Strand might just feature Dr Watson beating Holmes to death with his own bow!"

**~xxx~**

"That makes eight," Inspector Croft said, watching with distaste as another body was wheeled past. "Four in the river, three in the streets, and one in 'is house."

"And none with any severe injuries?" Inspector Abberline asked, folding his arms. Croft shook his head.

"They've all got minor bruising or scrapes, but nothing that could 'ave killed them," he replied. Abberline's brow furrowed. "And those were probably just from collapsing when they conked out."

"You don't think…disease?" he asked, but Croft once more shook his head.

"Doc says they're all clean," he said. "Two weren't in the best of health, but nothing that could have killed 'em."

"How many have been cut open?" Abberline asked, keeping his voice low. Some still saw the carrying out of autopsies as ungodly, after all.

"Five," Croft said. "Nothing much wrong with any of them. As far as we can tell, they all just dropped dead of their own accord."

"Very good, Inspector," Abberline said with a nod. "That will be all."

"Righto," Croft said, nodding in return as he left. Abberline watched him go for a moment, before turning the other way.

"Benton?"

"Yes sir?" The Constable stepped forward, helmet under his arm.

"I…ah…I think it would perhaps be best if we…uh…"

"I understand, sir," Benton replied succinctly, lifting his helmet over his head. "I'll go at once."

"Just…make her aware," Abberline said, voice cautious. "We don't need her coming down here just yet. With any luck, she's got enough on her plate that this won't concern her."

**~xxx~**

"So tell me, what exactly is the purpose of this…violin?"

Jenny took a moment to consider Strax's question. The two of them were sat at the small table in the kitchen, finishing their own breakfasts. Thankfully, Strax was perfectly willing to eat human food - so long as it was healthy. Being both a soldier and a nurse, he had a strong appreciation for any sustenance with high nutritional value. Jenny leant back in her chair.

"In the 'ands of a maestro," she began. "It can make some of the most beautiful music known to man." She paused, expression darkening. "In Madame's…well…" She turned her eyes to the ceiling, her point punctuated by a loud twanging sound from upstairs. She rolled her eyes, before looking back to Strax. "And in my 'ands, it's a bloody dangerous weapon if she don't learn how to play pretty damn quick."

"But I do not understand," Strax said, shaking his head. "If Madame Vastra is unable to find purpose, then surely you can do something?"

"Like what?" Jenny asked, picking at her eggs.

"You are Madame's mate, correct?" Strax asked, rather bluntly. Jenny almost choked on her eggs, but nodded all the same. "Then why do you not simply walk up there, present yourself, and stake your claim? Surely that will divert her attention?"

"…I think we need to teach you more about human romance, Strax," Jenny said, shaking her head. "Besides, you really think I should just walk in there, lift my skirts, and hope my womanhood distracts 'er?"

Now it was Strax's turn to look embarrassed.

"Well…it couldn't hurt…" he managed, suddenly sounding rather shy.

Jenny just smiled and shook her head, but it quickly faded when they heard a banging sound. She looked up, then back to Strax. "Was that the front door, or 'er knocking something over?"

"Door," Strax replied simply, going back to his food. Thankful for his surprisingly powerful hearing, Jenny left Strax and headed down the hallway, hoping the sounds from upstairs wouldn't carry. Smoothing her apron down, Jenny took a moment to slip back into the proper state of mind – life with Vastra had a way of making her forget that not all maids shared her experiences. Once again the image of the perfect Victorian maid, she reached forward and pulled the door open.

"Morning, Miss Flint," Constable Benton greeted. He looked rather cold, but wore an easy smile.

"Constable, come in," Jenny replied, feeling slightly more at ease. Aside from her intimate relationship with Vastra, Benton was mostly aware of the bizarre things that went on at 13 Paternoster Row. "What brings you 'ere so early?"

"I need to speak with Madame Vastra," he replied, removing his helmet. "Inspector Abberline has need of her services."

Jenny was slightly irritated that yet again, she was seemingly left from the equation. But, she reasoned as she led Benton upstairs, he was still a man of the 1880's, and she was simply a maid. They reached the door to Vastra's study, and Jenny paused.

"I'll just pop in and announce you," she said, turning before Benton even had a chance to thank her – she was more concerned by Vastra prancing about with her dressing gown undone. Slipping through the door and closing it behind her, Jenny turned to find her mistress stood by the window, violin still under her chin.

"Ma'am?" Jenny called. Vastra twirled around, revealing that her dressing gown was indeed still undone. As much as the Silurian enjoyed making Jenny flustered, she probably didn't want Benton seeing everything that was currently on display.

"Ah, you're just in time," Vastra replied with a smile. "I believe I have already mastered this device."

"Constable Benton is here to see you," Jenny cut in before she could be treated to a demonstration. Vastra looked somewhat put out, and lowered her instrument.

"And what does our dear Constable want?" she asked. "Has the Yard finally taken up my suggestion of replacing Chief Inspector Harris with a gerbil?"

"Inspector Abberline needs you," Jenny replied, folding her hands behind her back. Vastra glanced over her shoulder.

"Lost his way to his office, has he?"

Jenny sighed and rolled her eyes. "Just make yourself decent," she said, before cracking a small smile and gesturing towards Vastra's torso. "Those are mine, after all."

Vastra looked down at her chest, her brow raised. "If only these belong to you, I suppose this-" She gestured lower down. "-is as open for business as a common tart's?"

"It will be if you don't take a case and pay the rent this month," Jenny replied with a smirk, turning back to the door. Vastra just scowled and stuck her tongue out – an understandably impressive sight, all things considered – before pulling her dressing gown together and tying it at the waist. Satisfied, Jenny pulled the door open. "Constable Benton."

He stepped in, and Jenny closed the door behind him. It never failed to amaze her just how quickly Vastra could change her demeanour – even in her dressing gown, she now looked decidedly more imposing than she had only moments before. Her hands were held behind her back, which was now straight as a board. She was looking out the window, giving the impression of one in deep contemplation.

"Ah, Constable," she said, not turning to face him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Ma'am, Inspector Abberline has immediate need of you," Benton said. "I was instructed only to inform you of this, but I have a feeling we will be requiring your assistance once again."

"Indeed?" Vastra replied, tilting her head to the side. "Tell me, what business is it that has the Inspector in such a need?"

"Bodies," Benton replied, looking a little uneasy. "Eight of them, all found in the same area down by the docks, and all as though they dropped dead at god's will."

"And as you are coming to me, I would assume disease and poisoning have been thoroughly ruled out?" Vastra asked, voice neutral as always.

"Yes, ma'am," the Constable said with a nod. "It's as if they just died for the sake of death."

"I take it the public has not yet been informed?" Vastra asked. "One can only imagine the panic it would cause if it were known that perfectly healthy men were dropping dead for no good reason."

"No, ma'am," Benton said. "It's been kept under wraps, for now."

"Well, I must confess I am moderately intrigued," Vastra replied, finally turning to face the Constable. "But you say Inspector Abberline does not wish for my presence?"

"I…I think he does, ma'am, but…" he trailed off, apparently somewhat uncomfortable. "He does not wish for me to ask of it."

"In which case, I will simply inform him that I decided to take a detour through the Yard's mortuary on my way to the baker's," Vastra said, flashing a small smile. "Thank you, Constable."

"Madame," he said with a curt nod, before turning to Jenny. "Miss Flint."

"I'll show you out," Jenny said, leading him back down the stairs. When she returned, it was to find Vastra standing more or less where she had been before, but with one small difference.

She was completely naked.

"What?" she asked, bemused by Jenny's expression. "I cannot call on Scotland Yard in my dressing gown, can I?"

**~xxx~**

"And just what has you looking so pleased, my dear?" Vastra asked, narrowing her eyes at Jenny. The maid just shook her head and drew back the curtain beside her. They had almost reached Scotland Yard by now, their carriage just passing Waterloo Bridge as they travelled along Victoria Embankment. As was customary for their daylight excursions, Vastra was veiled, and their driver was Parker, an old friend of The Doctor's who had been introduced to Vastra not long before she first met Jenny. The source of Jenny's good mood was, of course, seeing Vastra out of the house. The Silurian was acting as though everything were normal, but Jenny could tell she was excited to be working again, even if the circumstances were somewhat mundane.

"If we could turn off at Northumberland Avenue, Parker!" Vastra called. Jenny raised an eyebrow, earning a small smirk from the veiled woman. "There is a pie shop across from The Banqueting House, responsible for one of the most heinous aromas I have ever come across. A detour is necessary."

"Right you are, ma'am," Jenny replied, still smiling pleasantly.

As they approached Whitehall, a great deal of noise greeted them, growing louder and louder with every passing moment. Jenny took another look out the window, and saw that a large number of people were gathered at the entrance to Scotland Yard. _'King Cholera has returned!'_ shouted one. _'Death is among all those who are without god!' _another cried.

"Well," Vastra said, looking almost amused. "It would appear Constable Benton spoke prematurely when he said the Yard had this under wraps." She knocked against the roof of the carriage. "The rear entrance, Parker, if you please!"

"You don't think it could actually be cholera, do you?" Jenny asked, peering through the window again. She had lost childhood friends to the disease during the last outbreak, and had been lucky to escape it herself, given her circumstances at the time.

"Benton said they had found no trace of infection," Vastra replied. "But it would do good to form our own conclusion, all the same."

**~xxx~**

"Alright lads, everybody out!" Inspector Abberline ordered, clapping his hands together. A group of junior officers quickly did as they were told, looking rather relieved to be sent away from the hallway outside the morgue. As they left, Inspector Croft emerged through the crowd, followed by Constable Benton. "That includes you, Inspector."

"I want to meet 'er," Croft replied, tossing the remnants of his cigarette to the side. "I already know you've been outsourcing to this 'terrifying' and 'mysterious' woman, Fred. I want to meet 'er."

"Sir, is that wise?" Benton asked over Croft's shoulder, but Abberline just sighed.

"I'll thank you to keep your mouth shut, Benton," Abberline said hotly. "It's you that brought her here in the first place. I told you to inform her, only."

"She insisted she be allowed to see the bodies, sir," Benton protested. Abberline just shook his head.

"Right, the pair of you, with me," he said. "But Croft, what you're going to see is not to be spoken of to anyone else, understood? Commissioner Munro don't want nobody knowing about her that doesn't need to. Our association with her is tolerated, not encouraged."

"Yes sir," Benton replied quickly.

"Whatever you say, Fred," Croft replied with a shrug.

"Right then," Abberline said, turning towards the door. "Let's get this over with."

The three men entered the morgue, where four of the eight bodies were laid out on separate slabs. Despite being a great deal cleaner than the corridor from which they had entered, the room still held a decidedly unpleasant smell. Croft and Benton remained by the door, but Abberline crossed the room to another exit. He opened it, stepped out for a moment, then returned, closely followed by two women.

"It would appear news of the deaths has broken, Inspector," Vastra said, closing the door behind Jenny. "Am I to understand this was unintentional?"

"That's right," Abberline replied, running a hand over his balding head. "Don't have a clue how it got out, but there's not much to be done about that now."

"Indeed," Vastra replied, before turning to the other two men. "Ah, I don't believe we have met."

"This is Inspector Harold Croft," Abberline said, nodding towards the man. "Inspector, allow me to introduce Madame Vastra and Miss Jennifer Flint."

"I've 'eard a great deal about you," Croft said, stepping closer and rather blatantly sizing Vastra up. "The Great Detective, they call you? Forgive me, madam, but I find it 'ard to imagine that one such as yourself can truly be responsible for the feats attributed to you."

"That wouldn't have something to do with my gender, would it, Inspector?" Vastra replied, her voice totally calm. "I can only imagine that you feel it is a slight against your reputation as an officer of the law? For it to be implied that a woman can do your job better than yourself?"

"Somethin' like that," Croft said, smiling briefly. "But of course, I am ready to be impressed."

"Well then," Vastra began, cocking her head to the side. "I had better get started on that, hadn't I?" She took a step backwards. "Inspector Abberline, aside from his rather confrontational attitude, is this man trustworthy?"

Abberline gave Croft a look for a moment, before turning back to the veiled woman. "He is, ma'am."

"Good," Vastra said, and in one swift movement, removed her veil. Neither Abberline nor Benton batted an eyelid, but Croft took a step back out of shock, his face contorted with confusion and mingled disgust.

"What is this?" he demanded, gesturing at Vastra and briefly looking to Abberline.

"You are aware, of course, that some poor souls are afflicted with horrific disfigurements of the skin?" Vastra asked, handing her folded veil to Jenny. "That sometimes, it can encompass their entire body?"

"…I…yes," Croft managed, unable to take his eyes off the woman's scales. Vastra smiled.

"Good, because you can pretend that is the explanation for what you are seeing," she said, heading towards the first pale, lifeless body, before pausing briefly. "It is not, of course, but I fear the true explanation would challenge your sensibilities too far." She continued on her way, finally drawing level with the corpse closest to the wall. "So then, what do we have here…" She looked up at the Inspector. "The first victim?"

"That's right. No name or identifying documents found on him," Abberline said. He and Jenny joined Vastra, just as she leant over the dead man. He was unclothed, with a large vertical cut running from his collarbone to his abdomen.

"Did your autopsy find anything out of the ordinary?" she asked, eyes running down the sewn-up incision.

"Absolutely nothing," Abberline replied. He reached for several documents on a nearby table, turning them right side up and scanning through them. "Aside from being a bit of a smoker, he was of fine health. No signs of any internal trauma."

"And what did your physical examination reveal?" Vastra asked, standing to full height again. The Inspector just shook his head.

"Nothing, save for a few small cuts and bruises."

"So, not 'nothing' at all then," Vastra replied irritably, leaning close to the body again. She looked him up and down; the drained, pasty appearance of his skin made every blemish and imperfection stand out even further. "Do you still have the clothes in which he was found?"

Abberline looked resigned for a moment, before sighing. "No," he said, clearly expecting disapproval. "When we thought it might have been disease, we sent them to be burnt."

"And so half of our potential evidence has gone up in smoke," the Silurian said. "Well done, Inspector." She turned back to the body, narrowing her eyes as she continued to scrutinise it. He was a middle-aged man, with a light dusting of stubble about his face. "So then…it would appear his assailant grabbed him from behind, by…" She tilted her head. "…his left upper-arm."

"Assailant?" Croft spoke up. Vastra just let out an irritable breath.

"I wouldn't," Jenny said, shaking her head. "Madame prefers silence."

Croft looked annoyed, but remained quiet. Vastra continued to regard the man's arm, reaching forward to lift it with a gloved hand. "The grip was firm enough to leave a mark, but…...he twisted as he tried to defend himself, explaining the lack of clearly defined finger imprints." She stepped around the body. "He then fell, accounting for the scrapes on both elbows…" She cast her eyes over the nearby photographs taken of the man's back. "…and small bruising about his shoulder blades…"

"Mugged," Jenny said, and Vastra nodded. But Abberline shook his head.

"Before we burnt his clothes we searched them," he said. "A pound and three shillings were in his coat pocket."

"A wealthy man, then. If he was carrying that around as loose change." Vastra deduced. "Or…a man who had just been paid. Either way, if the money was still in his pocket…"

"He had something more valuable on him," Jenny said. Vastra smiled and nodded again.

"Right you are," she replied. "Whatever this man was robbed for, it was not money."

"So you're saying someone pushed 'im over and 'e just died?" Croft asked, shaking his head incredulously. "Even though 'e clearly didn't hit his 'ead on the way down?"

"Ah yes, the head…" Vastra said, turning back to the corpse. "No injuries, no marks, but…hmm…" She hovered over the man's lifeless face, examining every pore. "Jenny, what do you make of this?" She gestured to the man's ear, from which a small stream of liquid had run. Jenny frowned.

"Water?" she asked, but Vastra just narrowed her eyes, before looking up.

"Perhaps, but…he wasn't found in the river…" the Silurian said, shaking her head. "No signs of absorption, or…" She stood to full height. "I am going to need a saw."

"You what?" Croft asked, looking considerably shocked. "What for?"

"I need to take a look inside this man's skull," Vastra replied calmly. "Unless you would prefer to do it yourself?"

"Inspector, are we really-"

"Just get her a saw, Croft," Abberline interrupted, before turning back to Vastra. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Without wishing to alarm you, Inspector, this is not the first time we have carried out such an examination," Vastra said, smiling briefly. "Though…perhaps the three of you should wait outside. This is liable to get rather messy."

"And yet have Miss Flint remain?" Benton asked, earning a withering look from both Jenny and Vastra.

"As it happens, Miss Flint will be doing the sawing," Vastra said, rather enjoying the shocked look upon the Constable's face.

A few minutes later, Jenny had a saw in hand. Croft's horror at what they were about to do was not entirely unexpected – brain surgery was hardly commonplace at the time, and neither was the use of such a tool to remove the top of a man's skull. But Vastra didn't have time to entertain their petty concerns – the liquid emanating from the man's ears had alarmed her; almost as much as the fact that it had gone unnoticed by the Yard's own coroner. And, as requested, the three police officers had vacated the room. As soon as the door had closed behind them, Jenny smirked.

"I don't think Inspector Croft likes you, ma'am," she said, moving around to the corpse's head.

"Believe me, the feeling is mutual, my dear," Vastra replied. "I have heard of him by reputation – not the sort of man I would have preferred to learn of my existence, but I will have to take Inspector Abberline's word." She placed her hands upon the man's head, steadying it for Jenny.

"So what else do we know about 'im?" Jenny asked, nodding towards the man whose head she was about to cut open. "They didn't seem to put much effort into finding out who 'e is."

"He's a factory worker," Vastra said. "Dealing with coal, I believe."

"And you know that, how?" the maid asked, placing the saw against the man's head. Vastra shrugged.

"Simple, really," she said. "His hands are blackened, but not by the dirt he fell in when he died. In fact, there is coal dust beneath his fingernails. Not only that, but both his nose and mouth bare the faint darkening of a man who spends his time in a fume-ridden environment. I'd wager that is responsible for the state of his lungs, rather than smoking as the police assumed."

"He could work on the railway," Jenny offered, making her first incision. A small amount of blood spilled from the pale skin, but it was minimal in quantity and thick in consistency.

"Possibly, but…" Vastra turned to look at his face again. "…his complexion does not match that of a man who spends his day having steam and smoke blasted at him. He works with coal, but not where it is being burnt."

"Benton said the bodies were found near the docks," Jenny reminded her. "Somewhere with a lot of coal, by the river."

"It would appear we have some research to conduct," the Silurian said, smiling again. She always enjoyed watching Jenny deduce things; the way her brow furrowed in concentration. Though, at present, that may have been because she was attempting to saw through a man's skull in a straight line. "I'll ask Benton for the exact location this and the other bodies were found in. Perhaps the others will be easier to identi-"

But she was cut short as Jenny lurched forward, letting out a shout as she went. Her saw had run clean through the front of the man's skull, kept going, and hit the back of it. At the same time, a burst of liquid had spewed forth from the incision, splattering onto the floor and their shoes.

The two women looked at the man's open head, to each other, then back down. His skull was empty; no brain at all present to intercept the blade as soon as it had cut through the bone. In a large quantity, the liquid – the same that had been seen running from the corpse's ears – had a slight bluish tint to it. But one fact remained clear: the man's brain, for all intents and purposes, had completely melted.

"I believe I should send the Yard's coroner my regards," Vastra said, eyes wide with surprise. "This is most definitely not cholera."


End file.
